


In Dreams He Came

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-27
Updated: 2006-06-27
Packaged: 2018-09-03 04:22:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8696455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Dean has an encounter that changes his perspective on...things.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

  
Author's notes: First you should all know Iâ€™m a liar and a hypocrite. Not only did I swear up and down that after Veronica Mars I WOULD NOT be writing fanfiction for any new fandoms, but I also assumed that Sam/Dean stuff was so popular only because people couldnâ€™t stand not to ship characters on a TV series, and since there were no females on the main cast, yada yadaâ€¦the Wincest ship was born. And then I, you know, watched the show. And realized that Sam/Dean somehow seems more canon than most of the canon couples I ship on other shows. Oh, and they ate my brain. Soooâ€¦then my incestuous sister from another mother, rachel_shanz encouraged me to write this, and I couldnâ€™t say noâ€¦and well, here you go. Iâ€™m a traitor to my willpower. If I had any. Soâ€¦assuming anyoneâ€™s still reading this novel, I hope you enjoy and any concrit would be much appreciated!  


* * *

**Title:** In Dreams He Came  
**Author:** [ ](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/profile)[**keepaofthecheez**](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/)  
**Characters:** Dean/Sam, Dean POV  
**Rating:** NC-17 for language and incest.  
**Category:** (W)incest  
**Word Count:** 3,495  
**Spoilers:** Uh…this doesn’t really spoil much. It’s just kinda _there_. Let’s say up to 1.07, just to be safe.  
**Disclaimer:** Oh, I own it. All. And I’ll be hosting an auction this Friday if anyone wants to buy Sam or Dean for a night of “fun”.   
**Summary:** Dean has an encounter that changes his perspective on…things.  
**Notes:** First you should all know I’m a liar and a hypocrite. Not only did I swear up and down that after Veronica Mars I WOULD NOT be writing fanfiction for any new fandoms, but I also assumed that Sam/Dean stuff was so popular only because people couldn’t stand not to ship characters on a TV series, and since there were no females on the main cast, yada yada…the Wincest ship was born. And then I, you know, watched the show. And realized that Sam/Dean somehow seems more canon than most of the canon couples I ship on other shows. Oh, and they ate my brain. Sooo…then my incestuous sister from another mother, [ ](http://rachel-shanz.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://rachel-shanz.livejournal.com/)**rachel_shanz** encouraged me to write this, and I couldn’t say no…and well, here you go. I’m a traitor to my willpower. If I had any. So…assuming anyone’s still reading this novel, I hope you enjoy and any concrit would be much appreciated!  
  
  
  
  
  
_Dreams are answers to questions we haven't yet figured out how to ask.  
~X-Files_  
  
  
  
“No. No, no, no fucking _no_.”  
  
Sam waited patiently for Dean to finish his rampage through the room, brows slightly cocked and ankles crossed as he sprawled across the bed. In a voice that sounded as if he were addressing a mildly annoying toddler, he said, “It has to be you, Dean.”  
  
Dean stopped by the window, jaw tight as he stared out at the darkened train tracks just beyond the motel grounds. And wasn’t _that_ just their kind of luck? The more he and Sam hunted, the worse the sleeping arrangements seemed to get. It didn’t usually bother Dean; hell, he’d spent more than one night curled up in his car, for chrissake. But lately, he felt so damn…  
  
Well, he wouldn’t have minded a short stay at a Hilton. Or even a Super 8.   
  
“And _why_ does it have to be me?” he grumbled, knowing he was very close to whining now. And Dean Winchester didn’t do whining…Dean Winchester sucked it up and did the job. Unless it involved flying. Or listening to boy bands. Anyway, he had a list, and the current situation definitely didn’t qualify for whining.  
  
The real problem was that Dean Winchester needed to get fucking _laid_. It was starting to become an itch that his hand alone couldn’t satisfy, and it was turning him into a maternal-expletive ticking time bomb, primed to go off at the slightest provocation. Something Sam was surely aware of, Dean thought with hot accusation as he turned back to his brother.  
  
“You know why,” Sam countered meaningfully, eyeing him with unnerving insight. Dean struggled to remain impassive, but his fists clenched at his sides when his brother continued on a sigh, “C’mon, Dean. Do I really have to spell it out?”  
  
“Yeah, I think you do.”  
  
Sam blinked, and then reached up to shove his shaggy hair off of his forehead. The telling gesture was a stall tactic that Dean was all too familiar with, and his glare grew sharp as Sam sat up. It was obvious that he was aware of Dean’s present mood and equally obvious that he wasn’t going to let it interfere with what he felt needed to be done.  
  
“Well, because you’re…” Sam paused to lick his lips, and Dean’s eyes zeroed in on the movement. It took him a moment to realize he was staring, and that Sam was talking, and he slowly shook away the strange daze in time to hear, “…really have no qualms about hitting on anything and everything, so—”  
  
“Wait,” Dean interrupted, letting out a choked half-laugh. “Are you saying I’m a slut?”  
  
Sam’s mouth fell open a little, and then he smirked. Goddamn _smirked_ , and it took every ounce of Dean’s self-control not to lumber across the room and throttle his brother. And he wasn’t sure why…he’d definitely been called worse. “Well, no, not exactly…” Sam hedged.  
  
“Because it sounds like you’re saying I’m a slut,” Dean continued, eyes narrowing. “Don’t _you_ think about sex, Sam?”  
  
“Of course I do—”   
  
“So then why the hell can’t _you_ volunteer to be this thing’s meal plan?” Dean demanded.  
  
“Because it needs strong emotion to feed off of, Dean, and well…let’s face it. You have a pretty healthy sexual appetite.”  
  
“Like a manwhore, apparently,” Dean snorted. “You know, I _do_ have standards.”  
  
“Sure you do,” his younger brother soothed, but Dean caught the hint of sarcasm coloring Sam’s voice and stiffened.  
  
Their latest lead had brought them to some shithole out in the middle of Bum Fuck, South Carolina, searching for an elusive demon who fed on its victim’s emotions through subconscious attack. The accounts had been vague at best, and nonexistent at worst, but then they’d dealt with and conquered poorer odds plenty of times before.  
  
And yet…there was something about the entire thing that had Dean’s back up, and it wasn’t just the seventeen-plus hour drive across crap country. Something just didn’t feel _right_ , and he’d be damned if they were lured into some kind of trap just because Sam was feeling guilty about God only knew what.  
  
“And how,” he wondered coolly, “can we even be sure this thing will come after me? What if it wants to snack on _you_ , Sammy? You have all that yummy anger bottled up inside of you about goddamn _everything_. And don’t forget the fucking guilt. I’m sure you’d make a delicious…”  
  
He immediately felt ashamed when Sam’s face paled, and Dean quickly bit back the rest of his heated response. He sighed heavily, lifting his hands and scrubbing his face with his palms as he pleaded inwardly for an ounce of composure. When he dropped his hands, Sam was staring blankly at him.  
  
“Whatever the demon gets from its victim, it adds to its repertoire,” Sam recited numbly, as if he were reading from a textbook. Dean flinched, knowing he was responsible for the haunted look now coloring his brother’s expression. “We can’t get it without offering ourselves up as bait, and the safest emotion we can give right now is desire. You know that, Dean.”  
  
He did know. Of course he fucking _knew_. Sam was always right. But this time Dean really wanted him to be wrong. He had no issue putting himself out there for whatever enemy they were facing, but the idea of having some freaking vampiric creature with a hard-on for soul-sucking enter his mind…Christ, was he really being that much of an ass for wanting another option?  
  
“I’ve been thinking,” he began hesitantly, unable to meet Sam’s gaze as he moved toward the other bed and sat down. He pulled the dagger out from under his pillow, fingering the hilt. “What if this thing isn’t up our alley? Is there any proof it’s actually hurting these people? We know all spirits and creatures of the night aren’t evil, so maybe—”  
  
“Are you chickening out?” Sam interrupted incredulously.  
  
Dean threw the knife down, eyes flashing. “No, but I have some serious issues about this and you’re not even listening, Sam. So far we have nothing concrete on this thing; we don’t know how it chooses its victims, we don’t even know _why_ …we’re assuming it’s living off emotion, but what if it’s something else?”  
  
“It’s not. I know it.” Sam’s voice remained stubborn, and Dean growled in frustration.  
  
“Okay. Fine. You’re the man, you know all. But here’s the thing, Sammy…none of these supposed victims look injured, or even _remember_ anything. We’re going off of the information from some creepy call in the middle of the night and a questionable entry in Dad’s journal.” He paused to take a breath, hoping he was sounding even slightly rational. “All I’m saying is that maybe we should give it more time. Get some more facts…”  
  
“What happened to killing everything bad that gets in our way?” Sam mocked. “Upholding the family business? Dean, we can’t risk that this isn’t something bigger than it appears. Badder. We have to trust what Dad _didn’t_ say in his journal. Please…I need to do this.”  
  
Dean waffled, but in the end he couldn’t bring himself to deny the grief consuming Sam’s features. He knew better than anyone the hell Sam put himself through, his desperate thirst for revenge and satisfaction for a number of events that weren’t even his fault. Dean had tried to explain this to his brother on more than one occasion, but was consistently met with no success.  
  
If all it took to make Sam happy was to let some demon suck away a little of his mojo…  
  
Good God, was he fucking _crazy?_  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Apparently, he was.  
  
That was the only thing Dean could think as he sat and listened to Sam explain the procedure that would happen when the demon came visiting.  
  
“According to lore, demons are more likely to inhabit a person who’s too weak to fight against the possession,” Sam began.  
  
“Well, fucking _duh_ ,” Dean snarked, hissing as Sam dripped candle wax along the upper ridges of his naked abdomen. “Question. Do demons enjoy the scent of burning flesh, or is this just a special occasion?”  
  
“It’s ritualistic,” Sam murmured, tilting the melting wax toward Dean’s chest. “Anyway, we’re going to dope you up so that this thing is sure to come after you.”  
  
“Dope me up,” Dean parroted, lifting his head to stare at his brother in the candlelight. “You’re gonna drug me? Wouldn’t that make it _harder_ for me to kick this freak out of my mind?”  
  
“We’re talking a minor sedative,” Sam promised, moving away and digging through a bag at the bottom of his bed. When he returned, he was carrying what looked to be a sack from a local drugstore. He tossed it to Dean, who caught it against his chest. “Just to get you under. You’ll be groggy at worst, and it shouldn’t have any effect on your inner, er, stamina.”  
  
Dean sneered, studying the small box of Tylenol PM. “Getting sucked dry by a demon…bet they don’t list _that_ as a possible side effect.”  
  
“Just take one. And lose the pants.”  
  
Dean nearly choked on the sleeping pill, eyes flying to his brother’s. “Uh…bwuh? Come again?”  
  
Sam cleared his throat, obviously loathe to repeat the sentiment. Dean began to get a perverse thrill out of the situation as he watched the faint blush crawl up Sam’s neck. Sam glared at him and grumbled, “You have to be…exposed for this to work right. We have to create the illusion that you’re…uh…”  
  
“Exposed?” Dean echoed, dropping his head against the pillow and resisting the urge to laugh. “Sure, no problem. Thing’s already gonna get an eyeful…why the fuck not?”  
  
He lifted his hips, jerking denim down his legs and tossing them in Sam’s direction. His brother narrowly missed being pelted in the face, and glared at Dean as he settled back into the mattress wearing nothing but a smirk and a pair of black boxers.   
  
“Anything else?” Dean queried, tucking an arm behind his head. “I mean, I don’t need to get it started myself or anything, do I?”  
  
He’d been joking…but Sam didn’t laugh. In fact, he looked downright uncomfortable, and every nerve in Dean’s body stood on end. He sat up on his elbows, eyeing his brother suspiciously as Sam fought to maintain eye contact. “Sammy?”  
  
Sam made a face, and blurted out, “I read somewhere that…it might work better if…”  
  
“Just spit it out,” Dean managed through his teeth, sucking in a half-breath as his mind was suddenly filled with all sorts of…odd thoughts. Thoughts that were pretty much illegal in fifty states. Surely, Sam wasn’t suggesting…  
  
“I’m gonna have to touch you, Dean.”  
  
The words echoed in the air like a foghorn, replaying in Dean’s mind on a distorted loop. He stared at his brother in something akin to shock, although he’d been imagining the same thing only seconds before. Finally, he ventured, “T-Touch me? You mean…?”  
  
Sam was flushing furiously now, but there was also grim determination present in his expression. He nodded, catching Dean’s eye for a moment before looking away. He cleared his throat again, his voice sounding husky as he explained, “It’s best if you’re…um…primed for this. At least, that’s what it says—”  
  
“Can’t I fucking do it myself?” Dean choked out. He felt frozen, and yet he was nearly vibrating with so many emotions that he didn’t know which one to name first. Desire? He couldn’t deny that…not to himself. But overpowering the desire was fear…and uncertainty. That’s what had him blurting out on the tail of his previous question, “No. No way.”  
  
Sam’s face mirrored his own, but he persisted. “Look. I’m…cool with it. It’s no big deal, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s for the…greater good.”  
  
“You wanna jack me off for the greater good?” Dean bleated, eyes closing. “Jesus H...I gotta say, Sammy, that’s a new one.”  
  
“Do you _have_ to say it like that?” Sam growled. “And besides, it won’t have to go that far. It’ll come for you before that. I’m sure of it. Once you’re, um, feeling it.”  
  
“Oh, Christ.” Dean couldn’t quite tell his brother that he was pretty sure he was _already_ feeling it. What the hell was wrong with him?  
  
“What’s your problem, Dean?” Sam’s voice changed slightly, becoming more aggressive. “Haven’t you ever been curious at all?”  
  
Dean’s eyes flew back open. “Excuse me?”  
  
Sam was hovering over him, face half-illuminated by the soft glow of the candles. It wasn’t the first time that Dean was aware of how pretty his brother was. Fucking _pretty_. Of course, knowing it had never affected him, for God’s sake. But now…there were waves of _something_ coming off of Sam and it was wreaking havoc on Dean.  
  
“Are you scared?” Sam whispered, moving closer as Dean stared at him in absolute silence. His near-nakedness seemed more important than it had five minutes ago, and he shifted uncomfortably on the bed.   
  
“No, I’m not scared, Sam,” he answered, unsure if he was telling the truth or not. Just what the hell was happening here?  
  
“Yeah, you are,” Sam murmured, reaching out to trace the line of Dean’s jaw. His hand disappeared behind his neck, and then Dean found his head jerked forward, face within inches of Sam’s. Sam’s mouth curved. “But you do want this, don’t you, Dean?”  
  
Dean’s throat worked, a reply stuck somewhere in his chest as Sam leaned forward and nuzzled the side of his jaw. His breath escaped in a long hiss as Sam’s tongue came out to play along the edge of his mouth, and then he exploded into motion, bucking against his brother in frantic motions.  
  
“Get the fuck off of me!” he shouted, but nothing seemed to faze Sam. Dean felt as if he were being held down by invisible binds, and then it all clicked. “This isn’t real,” he whispered, staring dazedly up at the vision of his brother. “You’re…you’re not Sam.”  
  
“Is that your answer for denying what’s going on here?” Sam mocked softly. “This must not be real? Pretty lame, Dean. And pretty fucking pointless.”  
  
Dean jumped as a hand found its way inside his boxer shorts, and nearly came out of his skin as fingers gripped his hardened cock. “Oh, Jesus,” he groaned, thrashing his head to the side. His breath came out in short, staccato bursts. “Wh-What is this? What do you want?”  
  
“I’d say that’s obvious.” The hand squeezed, deliciously, and this time Dean couldn’t hold back the groan that welled in his throat as Sam began to stroke the solid length.   
  
“Oh, fuck,” he gasped, his head falling back mere seconds before Sam’s mouth crashed against his own. The kiss exploded into a tangle of tongues and sizzling heat, like nothing Dean had ever experienced before. When he pulled away for the second time, he saw his dazed expression reflected in Sam’s eyes seconds before he reached out and pulled Sam back to him.   
  
Giving himself over to the desire he felt with his own goddamn brother was all at once liberating and scary as hell. Dean’s fingers twitched with longing to stroke along Sam’s dick that was now rubbing sinuously against his thigh. He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the twinge of self-disgust. God, this was wrong. Wasn’t it? So why did it feel so fucking _good_? Something was wrong…  
  
“Sit up,” Sam’s hoarse voice stilled Dean’s thoughts and actions. Heart thudding loudly, Dean gazed into dark eyes and found himself rising, leaning back against the wall as Sam straddled him, eyes locked on Dean’s.  
  
“What are you…” he trailed off as Sam’s gaze went to his lap, his fingers ripping and tearing at the waistband of his boxers. Dean’s head fell back with a thunk against the wall, his throat working spasmodically.   
  
Sam’s intentions were pretty fucking clear.  
  
“I’m gonna make you feel fucking good, Dean,” Sam answered the unfinished question, his voice silky and sexy as he slid the boxers from Dean’s hips. He paused, then reached out to close his fingers around Dean’s cock. “Shit…look at you.”  
  
Stark clarity returned at that exact moment, and Dean reached a hand down, determined to stop things before they went beyond the point of control. “Sammy, wait…”   
  
Desperation was turning his voice husky, and for a wild moment he wasn’t sure if he was desperate for Sam to stop…or continue. But Sam _didn’t_ stop; he merely looked up to meet Dean’s gaze while softly stroking his erection.  
  
“Isn’t this what you want?” Sam murmured in an almost pleading tone that was at odds with the heat burning in his heavy-lidded eyes. “I hear you at night, Dean. Every fucking night, every fucking place. You need this, don’t you?”  
  
Dean swallowed, releasing a low hiss as Sam’s thumb gently rubbed the flared head. “Y-Yes, but not with you,” he managed thickly, his hips arching into Sam’s touch despite his best efforts otherwise.  
  
Sam’s lips took on the ghost of a smile, even as his expression remained serious and intense. “You’re a liar,” he accused roughly. “Look me in the eye, Dean, and say you don’t want your baby brother to fuck you.”  
  
“Christ!” Dean whimpered when Sam bent and took the head of his cock into his mouth, tongue circling as his lips began a soft suction. Dean’s hands buried in dark hair, his pulse pounding as his mouth fell open in short gasps. “Sammy… _fuck!_ ”  
  
“It’s Sam…” Sam hummed around him, glancing up flirtatiously from beneath his lashes, taking in another inch of Dean’s flesh. His hands played at Dean’s sides, sliding back to feel the densely ridged muscle beneath. “Nice,” he purred, pulling back and holding Dean’s hotly bewildered gaze before slipping his palms down to squeeze his backside. “Damn, you’ve got a nice ass, bro.”  
  
Dean’s answer was lost when Sam began licking the length of his cock again; occasionally taking the entire thing in his mouth and suckling with barely leashed passion. Dean’s hips worked against his will, surging himself deeper into Sam’s mouth as he whispered, “No…Sam…fucking A!”   
  
He groaned as Sam deep-throated him to the base, his fingers curling in Sam’s hair and pulling him closer as his eyes fell shut. A ragged sigh escaped his throat, and he simply enjoyed the silky heat of Sam’s mouth working him over.  
  
Sam continued playing at his ass, softly running one finger down the tight crevice and dragging forth another shuddering moan from Dean as he sucked harder on his cock. “Still want me to stop?” he murmured in a gruff tone, pulling away to palm Dean’s flesh as Dean stared down at him through glassy eyes.  
  
“Finish it,” Dean growled, lost in a sensual haze as his entire body throbbed for release. “Fucking put your mouth back… _ahh_ …” He gasped when Sam took him again, this time showing no mercy as he dragged his teeth lightly up and down each ridge, using his tongue to lave away the sting.  
  
Dean knew the minute it became too much, and he jerked as the most powerful orgasm he’d ever experienced began to rip through him like a bolt of electricity. He let out a harsh curse, yanking Sam forward as he sighed, “Fuck…Sam… _suck me_ …” with every spasm of pleasure.  
  
Sam made throaty sounds of encouragement, squeezing the cheeks of Dean’s behind. Dean froze as his heart rate began to slow and his climax ebbed, and he laid on the bed, completely drained and staring at the ceiling.  
  
“Dean,” Sam whispered, the word floating across Dean’s mind as if from faraway. “Dean?”  
  
Dean blinked, then turned to find his brother watching him with a puzzled and slightly concerned expression. “Huh?” he managed, shaking his head as grogginess threatened to consume him. “What’d you say?”  
  
“Are you all right?” Sam wondered. “You were gone fast, and for really long. Maybe I miscalculated the effect the sleeping pill would have on you.”  
  
Dean stared at his brother, not understand his meaning. “Sam, what the hell are you talking about? I haven’t even gone to sleep yet.”  
  
_As you should well know_.  
  
“Dean, you passed out as soon as you took the pill.”  
  
Dean studied Sam’s worried features, becoming cognizant of several facts. One, he was still wearing his pants. Two, Sam was sitting by the bed as if he hadn’t moved in hours. Not to mention there were no telltale signs that he’d previously been sucking Dean off like a drunk cheerleader on prom night. Come to think of it…  
  
Dean glanced down, and realized he was in the same state he’d been before things had gotten out of hand. Half-hard and on edge. Realization quickly dawned, as did the fact that he’d been had. “Oh, crap.”  
  
“It came, didn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. Sam stared at him. “Dean, what happened?”  
  
Dean glanced up from beneath his lashes to find his brother hovering over him, and his cock twitched. “I think it’d be easier to show you…”


End file.
